Bittersweet
by kittycat69
Summary: Oneshot. He loves her hands. They're long, elegant, tapered and beautiful. The nails of her right hand are bitten to the quick but he loves them anyway. Always her right hand though and never her left and he finds that much more endearing. Pre-CF. PeetaKatniss


**a/n: I'm still alive. I was busy with real life, but I think I'm back for a while again. **

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Hunger Games.

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**Bittersweet**

They lay in a patch of grass. They both try to steady their breath and racing heartbeats. The sun is warm on their skin and a mockingbird sings somewhere in the trees above. His whole body is sore. He can feel bruises starting to form under his skin and he vows to himself that he will _never_ get her that angry again because it only ends up hurting him. Especially when she shoves him into a tree.

"Where's Gale?" He croaks. He winces inwardly because it would be too painful to wince _outward_.

"Out romancing some new girl I'm sure. Why, do you want him here?" She laughs softly and her dark braid sways across the grass as she shakes her head at the thought of her friend. Her dark hair shines softly in the late afternoon sunlight.

"No. It's just you two are always together."

"Well, he's my best friend. It kind of happens."

"I see."

She rolls onto her stomach next to him. He watches a ladybug climb slowly over her shoulder. He wonders if he should tell her but ladybugs are harmless and it looks cute anyway. His eyes are drawn to her fingers. He watches as she carefully plucks daisies and threads them together. A muffled curse when a stem splits and another daisy deftly plucked. He loves her hands. He has held them more times than he can count, both in and out of the arena, and he has recorded every detail to memory.

They're pale and elegant, fingers long and tapered. Her nails are oval, rounded, and bitten to the quick on her right hand only. The nails of her left are cut short to try and disguise it but he knows. He knows she likes to bite her nails when she is anxious or nervous. Always her right hand though and never her left and he finds it that much more endearing.

"I'm sorry," she says finally. Her voice draws him from his contemplation.

"For?"

He feels lost, as if she's carried on the previous conversation and he's missed half of it. Maybe she did, maybe he did. His eyes move from her hand to her shoulder (the lady bug is now scuttling down her back) to the profile of her face.

"I shoved you. I was angry and frustrated and I didn't mean to do it that hard. Sorry. Did it hurt?" she asks softly. Her eyes are half closed against the glare of the setting sun. Her long lashes sweep against her pale cheeks.

"Well, I figured you were getting back at me for hanging out with Madge earlier."

"I was."

He'd been joking when he said it but her tone wasn't. He sits up. He winces as his abdominal muscles stretch and protest painfully.

"Oh," His hand reaches up and his fingers idly run through his hair to comb out leaves and grass, bugs and twigs, "I…"

"Why do you hang out with her Peeta?" she questions. She turns to her side, chin and cheek cradled in palm and pinky finger dangerously close to her mouth, "I mean, she's pretty and all, don't get me wrong. But you see each other a lot more than you used to. So what are you looking to gain from her?"

He settles into the nook of a convenient tree. "She's a very nice girl."

She snorts air through her nose. The gesture is very unladylike and he laughs softly and rolls his eyes at her. She grins as well. "You are right. She is very nice. It's just that Prim was talking about how you and Madge are _together_ now. Officially, as in more than friends." She pauses for a breath and he raises an eyebrow, waiting to see where this is going. "What I'm trying to say, to ask that is, is, are you? Together I mean, dating."

He wants to laugh but he's afraid to set her quicksilver anger off again. He doesn't want to risk it, especially after their teasing wrestling match turned more violent. He isn't ready for another round and his bad leg protests painfully.

"I don't see why you should care since you only want to be friends. At least that's what it sounded like on the train home from the Games," he comments idly. With a great sense of self-control, he stretches his legs out in front of him and yawns quite widely, "But no. Madge and I are just friends. She's very nice and yes she is pretty but she isn't exactly my type," he teasingly grins down at her, "You should know what my type is by now, Katniss."

Her eyes are wide and her cheeks are stained a very flattering rose color. He likes the surprised look on her features and he offers her another smile, this one softer than the previous teasing one, "Madge and I talk about _normal_ things. Sometimes I just want to talk with someone who doesn't have nightmares and think about death and killing people and survival and the Games, you know? Sometimes I just want to pause the pain and be normal and talking with Madge lets me do that."

He gets up slowly and tries to look indifferent to the pain shooting through his bad leg while at the same time trying to mask it from her. He inhales the sweet smell of grass and wild flowers and watches the ladybug once more. It's poised on her hip, and then, it's in flight, wings flapping to keep it on course from the sudden gust of wind. He smiles, then approaches, hand held out.

"Come on, Katniss, let's get back. I'm starving. And, besides, someone needs to make sure Haymich doesn't drink too much tonight."

"After last week, we really need to watch how much he drinks. I never want to see that much vomit again."

She tightens the leather jacket around her waist before accepting his offered hand. He grips it, feels the short nails press into his wrist and smiles and pulls her to her feet. She stumbles, regains her footing, and her hands rest on his shoulders for balance. Her face is a breath away and she smells of peppermint and roses.

"You know, I never thanked you."

"For…?"

Her smile is beautiful, "Saving me."

He grins back at her. His hands tighten on her waist where they've come to rest (though he can't remember moving them there).

"Anytime."


End file.
